Bread & Circuses
by Voluptuous
Summary: 'Folks came from far and wide to see the young boy dance with fire. I was just going along with the crowd, but once the show began I was captivated, just like the rest of them.' GrimmIchi YAOI. Set in Ancient Rome; Gladiator Grimm and Slave Ichi.
1. Chapter I- Bound In Flames

Title- Bread & Circuses.

Summary- 'Folks came from far and wide to see the young boy dance with fire. I was just going along with the crowd, but once the show began I was captivated, just like the rest of them. ' GrimmIchi YAOI. Set in Ancient Rome; Gladiator Grimm and Slave Ichi.

Disclaimer- I do not own bleach, and this is not guaranteed to be historically accurate.

A/N- Set in Ancient Rome, because history intrigues me. Although the research I did is limited to a few terms and styles. Feel free to point out anything that is not accurate, if it disturbs you.

The homosexual erotica will come in a chapter or two. This is supposed to be a three-shot, but i will see where it takes me :)

* * *

I never particularly approved, or disapproved slavery. It was simply a way of life; being a slave was a profession I was born into, and I thought it was how I'd die. But now I found myself walking the bustling streets of Rome a _libertus. _A freedman.

I had so much gold in my pockets It would take me a lifetime to spend it, my ankles felt like they had wings; the weights of shackles gone forever. My heavy gladiator armour had been left behind, and it felt so strange to be this light. This _free_. Wearing nothing more than a thin white tunic, navy breeches and sandals.

Of course, I still carried a sword over my tunic, and some knives in my belt. I would never feel safe without them. Besides, I was sure everybody I passed could hear the coin's rattling in my pockets.

But they'd have to be brain-dead to try and take it from me. Everybody knew my face, and if they didn't, they knew my hair. Bright, sky blue wasn't a shade you saw adorning a man's head often. In fact, my particular shade was recognizable by all, whether they attended to the fights or not. This was my blue; the panther king's blue.

I paused momentarily, to admire one of the advertisements. The brilliant blue poster depicted me, fighting hand-to-claw with a huge panther. Clicking my teeth in distaste, I silently cursed the lot of them. Pompous noble assholes. How dare they kick me out on the street like this!

Since when had I ever wanted to be free? Fighting was my life. All I'd ever done was train to be a gladiator, the strongest, king of both man and beast. But I knew that was why they'd thrown me away; the emperor didn't like the way the crowd called me king. The way they chanted it religiously as I stood at the top of the world, for those brief seconds of victory. I was untouchable, even by our king of kings.

So they'd discarded me for something new and fresh; some pretty kid that could kill an eagle. What kind of bullshit was this? Who the fuck _couldn't_ kill an eagle? You get a fucking crossbow and you shoot the fucker down. It wasn't that hard.

Yeah, maybe I was a bit bitter. Who wouldn't be? I was alone in a big city with everything and nothing at the same time. I had money, fame, power; anything an ordinary free man would dream of. Any lady in this city would hike her skirt up for me and any tavern, brothel, gaming house or public bath would let me in.

But I didn't want any of that; I didn't care for material things, or material women. All I wanted was to kill something. To rip some flesh from bone and sink a dagger into a freshly beating heart. I wanted to fight.

In frustration, I wandered along a bit more until something bright caught my eye. There were lots of bright things in this city; it was so bright sometimes it made me sick. But my curiosity compelled me to lay eyes on a flaming arrow.

It was a little early to start lighting the street lanterns; the sun was only just kissing the horizon. So this flaming arrow amused me, as I followed it's path to the next. It was a cute gimmick; very clever, and I momentarily wanted to know what was at the end of this trail.

_'Do you like dancing?'_ The words were singed into a plaque. I'd seen dancing before, at dinner parties and banquets, but it never entertained me. Watching pretty girls throwing their wiggly bits around just wasn't my thing.

_'Do you like danger?'_ the next plaque read, and I found myself frowning. That was completely different from the last; this was a challenge. What did danger and dancing have in common? I would have to find out.

More plaques depicted confusing, yet gripping slogans until I came across a brightly colored tavern, with flaming arrows pointing out the entrance. Green and white silks hung from the awnings, and bizarre plants decorated the entry. The building itself was not exactly big, but it wasn't small either, and packed tightly between its stone neighbors, it was impossible to tell how large it really was.

Was this a private tavern, reserved for the wealthy and the aristocracy? If so, why was it in such a peculiar part of the city, between a plebeian bakery and a brothel?

Some wealthy nobles draped in the finest silken toga, entered the tavern and disappeared behind its tapestries. Their entourage of slaves and bodyguards waited outside. I watched quietly from the shadows across the street, as more assorted peoples excitedly entered the tavern. It was easy to tell, from their styles of clothing, or the richness of their toga, where they stood in social standards, and I was surprised to find some peasants enter unobstructed.

The sunset lit the sky a fiery orange, as I finally crossed the street to approach this curious tavern. Up close it smelt like exotic spices and roasting meat. I liked it.

"Do you have reservations, Mr. Panther King?" My entrance was halted by a small hand on my torso. Looking down, I locked eyes with a small child, his red hair on end as his eyes shone with excitement at meeting me.

"It's Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez , and this is my reservation." I grumbled, tossing him a minted gold coin. His red eyes widened in thanks, as he let me past. My name was Grimmjow now; I wasn't the Panther King anymore. Just plain old Grimmjow. In other words I was nothing.

I waltzed straight into the hall, and my eyes surveyed the lounging crowd as i would an arena of animals. The stage at the front was darkened, and around it reclined a crowd of chattering people, laughing and tinkling their wine goblets as they snacked on cheeses and savouries. Each table was lit by an open lantern; a fire hazard if you asked me. I noticed, confused, that all the patrons were men. Had I walked straight into an erotic dance? Or perhaps an auction of prostitutes? Either way I was sure I didn't want to be here anymore.

My coming and going had been silent as a cat; nobody had seen me enter besides the boy. So when a friendly hand landed on my shoulder, a second before I had breeched the outside air, my eyes widened, and my hand dipped to my weapon.

"My, My!" I turned to glare into cunning, steel-grey orbs. "What an honour it is to have the favourite of the gods here with us tonight!" The man waved a leaf green fan before his lips, but I could sense his grin nonetheless. Pale blonde hair shrouded his face messily, tickling the neckline of his jade tunic.

He hadn't noticed my hand twitching over my weapon, just like I hadn't noticed him approach. So I called it even and shrugged his hand off. "Apologies. I seem to have entered the wrong building." I muttered, turning again to leave.

"Nonsense!" he laughed, as he threw his arm around my broad shoulder and began leading me back into the sweet-smelling place. "Come, take a seat and I'll bring you Bread and wine!" My eyebrow twitched as he quickly bustled me onto a pillow around a small round table. "The show will begin shortly. I do hope you enjoy!" he chimed before disappearing mysteriously.

Eyes bored into me now, as the blonde's antics had drawn attention. I mustered a fierce scowl to ward off any approach. I sat there, unsure of what to do, or where to go, until, wading through the crowd, another glittering flame caught my eye.

But this was no literal flame that drew me in, this was a bright shock of orange, fiery hair, adorning the head of the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Golden chains and jewellery hung from a taut, tan body, almost glittering brighter than the elusive sheen that coated sun-kissed skin.

The boy's regal image struck me all at once, as he continued to approach, heedless to the grasping hands of those he passed, as they fought to lay their sweaty palms on his beauty. I ran my eyes over him three more time, starting at his elegant sunset-painted toes and bare, jingling feet as each moved in turn to drag him closer to me. Golden wire, bells, and chains wrapped around his ankles, rising in a zigzag to hug his thin, muscled calves. Those gold plated chains draped his body, continuing to interweave up his lean thighs like binding stockings.

A short, transparent silken sarong hung low on his hips, shimmering with red threads that danced like flames as he swayed his beautifully carved hips. The boys tight waist cut in to his sides, as those beautiful defined bones morphed into a tight, lean torso, decorated with firm, bare abs. Those tight abs struck me, as I followed their path, stacked on top of each other like building blocks until his delicious torso broadened minutely into his chest. Across that tanned chest hung the finest, clear silk money could buy. It was draped over his shoulders like a scarf, barely covering his peach tinted nipples.

I was struck again by the thickness of the golden band around his neck. At the base of his throat, imbedded in the precious metal was the biggest ruby I had ever lain eyes on. The chain's linked to his chunky collar hung like rattling necklaces around his chest and shoulders. They thickened and stretched like snakes around his thin muscled arms, interweaving the same as they had around his legs, until they merged tighter around his wrists to form solid gold bangles.

That led me to his hands; those delicate hands held a swishing wine goblet in their grasp. The soft movement of the liquid in the crystal glass enchanted my eyes like a spell, as his delicately painted nails wrapped around it.

I was already sweating, and I hadn't even dared admire his face yet. It suddenly occurred to me, as the clanking of his chains came to a stop before me, that the extensive gold adorning this boy's body was not simply for decoration. There was solid steel under that gold plating. His chains were unbreakable shackles, done up like jewellery for the sake of appearances.

I watched his thin hands and arms as he placed the wine firmly on the table before me, and I saw the mark of humility in his stance; the quiet obedience that overcame a slave's persona as they followed orders. I should know; I used to be one.

I could see it in every shift of his muscles, and I knew instantly that this boy did not own a will of his own anymore; he was a _Dediticii_ slave; never to be freed or included in society. Dediticii were rare slaves that had either been captured in a war, opposed the government, or committed an unforgivable crime. If they were not immediately crucified, people who were one of those three things were sold as Dediticii; slaves that could never earn the rights of a free citizen.

Normally, they were branded with a mark to show their status, but I assumed this boy's was hidden beneath one of his many shackles.

I met his strong eyes as he lifted his hand from the glass. A perfectly sharp jaw accentuating his pursed pink lips, cute nose framed by royally high cheekbones, and deep chocolate eyes outlined by soft ginger lashes.

Those pretty lips flicked between a scowl and a neutral expression, as his mysterious cocoa orbs stared me down, before he turned to walk away again. I shook my head, snapping out of the trance he had inspired.

I was a gladiator. I would be whipped if i was caught ogling a pretty boy. But I wasn't a gladiator anymore… I was a free man with money and power; I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.

So in one strong swipe, I reached out and slapped the teen's perfectly tight, round buttocks beneath my palm. The sound of smacking flesh thrilled me, as the boy jumped ten feet into the air with a yelp. All eyes looked my way in surprise, but I didn't care. I was used to getting attention.

The murderous glare the teen turned on me, as he held his stinging derriere with both hands, excited me more than anything. I'd had tigers glare at me the same way; wolves, eagles, lions, boars and the fiercest ox anybody had ever encountered.

The fire in his eyes and the luscious heat in his cheeks delighted me, as a large leering grin overtook my features. I flashed him my sharpened canines, as he blushed madly beneath my twinkling azure gaze.

Hurriedly, he stumbled away with half as much dignity he'd approached with.

Slowly, pleased with myself, I reached for my wine, taking a leisurely sip as I shook my burning hand. The hand I'd touched the boy with stung, like I'd grasped something forbidden. As the crimson liquid sunk down my throat, I realized in shock that my hand really was ablaze.

The wine came back up as I startled in surprise, flailing my flaming hand around, as fire licked up my sleeve. I finally managed to put it out against my thighs, and a wry chuckle spilled from my lips as I admired my scorched palm.

I had always loved the creatures that fought the dirtiest; human or beast. In fact I'd never been as eager for a battle as I was at that moment; I'd never wanted something so much in my life.

I'd be dammed if I left here without him.


	2. Chapter II- Dancing With Fire

Title- Bread & Circuses.

Summary- Folks came from far and wide to see the young boy who dances with fire. I was just going along with the crowd, but once the show began I was captivated, just like the rest of them.

Disclaimer- I do not own bleach, and this is not guaranteed to be historically accurate.

A/N- Just for anyone who's interested, I thought I'd include the logic behind the title 'Bread & Circuses'; A phrase originating in ancient Rome; _"Bread and circuses (or bread and games, from Latin: panem et circenses) is metonymic for a superficial means of appeasement."_ -As stated by Wikipedia.

A roman poet called _Juvenal_ used it to identify the only remaining cares of the roman populace. _"… Already long ago, from when we sold our vote to no man, the People have abdicated our duties; for the People who once upon a time handed out military command, high civil office, legions — everything, now restrains itself and anxiously hopes for just two things: bread and circuses"_

This refers to the roman practice of handing out free wheat to citizens, and costly entertainment, such as the coliseums, for the sole sake of gaining political power. IN OTHER WORDS, People didn't care if their leader was good or bad, so long as they got their bread and games.

* * *

Sweet, Velvety, Flamboyant wine trickled down my throat, as delicate lyres strung the melodies of angels. Lush, plump bread and extravagant figs immediately followed.

My head felt light as I reclined, resting gracelessly on my palms and washing fig seeds from my teeth with fruity alcoholic grape.

I had to admit this place was high class. Barely, throughout all my success as a fighter, had I sat on such plush pillows and gorged myself on such lavish treats, my senses entertained by beautiful music and smells. The fact that I was sitting here as a free man might have contributed to this satisfied feeling.

The music alone was enough to keep me from leaving; the rich cultures in the sounds captivated me. The stage was lit, and on it performed a number of skilled girls, playing songs I had never heard, on instruments I had never seen.

A petit women of Asian origin plucked at a foreign musical toy so fascinatingly, despite her displeased face. Three more scantily clad women followed in white robes, and sung with beautiful voices, displaying their bodies gracefully. More acts followed, the skill of these slaves blowing me away.

I loved music just as much as any roman, but staring at the voluptuous flesh of females was, as previously stated, not my forte. I longed to see the fiery boy again; instead I would indulge in his talents, and pleasure myself with more wine.

Yet I could not escape now; it was ill manners to leave a spectacle halfway through. I had been taught that much. My audiences did not leave my fights prematurely, and I could not do the same to these performers, no matter how much their swaying bodies displeased me.

Instead I closed my eyes and rested my head on the table, hoping no one turned from the stage to witness. The music lulled me, as tension I hadn't realized existed, drifted from my battle-hardened muscles.

After some time, something unexplainable woke me, forcing my head up to observe the tense interval. Years of performing experience allowed me to smell the excitement in the air; the tone of chatter had changed, the impatient shifting of bodies, even the flaming lanterns seemed to pulse enthusiastically.

It began with the soft beating of drums, the slow thump of leather pulled taut across a wooden cylinder; a sound imported from the far south. The audience stilled as the delicate chiming of brass accompanied; an instrument from the east. The melodious plucking of delicate strings joined in, and soon the entire building was filled with a type of music I had never heard before. It was so odd, yet so overpowering that all eyes were glued to the stage.

Heartbeats danced to the sounds that immersed them, my body jittering as the drum rolls speed up. They came faster and faster, as the stage remained empty, my heartbeat struggling to keep up, as I feared it would beat right from my flesh and bones.

Just as I thought I couldn't take anymore, there he was; appearing with a pulse of fire in the center of the theater. The ginger-haired boy stood so calmly amidst the chaos, like the eye of the storm of sound that played around him.

I still felt overwhelmed by the intense music, yet his appearance somehow grounded me. He stood as still as a statue, before movement rung through his agile body, the tips of his toes twitching as the jingling of his golden chains spread over his frame like domino's.

His beauty was so enchanting, and he hadn't even begun to move yet, but when he did it was like the universe swayed to accommodate his brightness. The sun ceased to exist, and instead this glowing boy had become the center of the world.

Chains chimed with every twitch of his muscles, as he began to dictate the beat; his very movement controlling the sounds as he stamped his feet a certain way or clicked his fingers in a particular direction.

Thin hips swayed as lithe limbs stretched high, heavy chains attempting to drag him back down to earth, screeching their protest, yet he defied them all and danced free. Watching him was trance inspiring; the way he moved his body with expert ease, chains chiming and swaying, feet leaping and bounding as his hands twisted in complicated patterns and designs. He threw his head back, tossing his crown of hair around as all the flames in the room swayed along with him.

Red painted nails dragged down his bare chest as he shook his perfect body, chocolate eyes dark and glazed, features serene and heated. Nobody could tear their eyes from those delicate fingers as they traced his lean muscled chest. I couldn't help imagining those were my hands on his body. The thought caused me to shift and swallow uncomfortably.

The boy's sexual prowess was unlike any other I had been subjected too. The most arousing feature of his dance was the way he moved his hips and torso; that flexible body bending and swinging, hips moving so sensually and his torso twisting so erotically as the music consumed him.

The silks around his skin flew as he spun, toes twisting him around in time with the music. It was amazing how the flames reacted to his dance, the power he seemed to have over the uncontrollable element.

His bond with fire reached new unbelievable heights, as a circle of flames erupted around the stage, framing his beautiful dance with danger. The audience cheered, enthralled to watch him burn alive, as he spun faster and faster.

Golden chains swung around him, flames reaching out to lick them as he spun past. I leant forward, eyes wide and body tense, sure he would burn any second. But the boy didn't scream, even when his chains miraculously caught fire, and the dangerous element crept across his body.

I stood up, outraged that they were trying to burn such a pretty thing alive. What was this pagan ceremony? What devils were these people worshipping? How could I posses the boy if he was about to burn alive right in front of my eyes?

In my rage, I barely noticed his immaculate skin beneath the flames. But when I looked closely it flawed me. He wasn't burning; flames as red as the setting sun danced across his skin yet his flesh remained unsigned. There was no sign of the blackness of death on him; he simply shone like the sun as he whirled.

My mouth felt dry as I gaped, unable to tear my eyes away from his entrancing beauty. Those golden chains that draped his body were flaming, every inch of his skin was aflame, yet as he twirled religiously in the midst of the blaze, the boy remained unharmed.

His regal image dancing with fire struck me; I could have sworn I was staring at a god; a flaming phoenix rising from the ashes, any second now he would take off and leave earth forever. Yet his cloak of flames encaged him like a rare beast.

What was this sorcery? Was I under an illusion, or was I really observing a deity trapped in human flesh?

Before I realized it the audience had erupted in applause and cheering, standing around me to show their appreciation, as I became just one in the crowd. Was it an illusion after all? Something told me that wasn't the case. Curiosity bloomed, and I found myself wanting to know, more than ever, who this mysterious boy was, and WHAT he was.

My gut told me he held a power unlike any other, and I would be dead a thousand times over if I hadn't listened to that instinct in the past.

The boy slowly came to a halt on the stage; his flaming fetters had quickly burnt away the slight materials around his waist and neck, leaving him all but naked. He begun bowing lowly, and I was reminded of his status as an eternal slave. I couldn't help but wonder how someone so unique and remarkable had ended up in such a pitiable state.

The blonde man who had cajoled me earlier came beaming and smiling upon the stage, and I realized he must be the slave master. He took the boys bright hair in his hands as the orangette knelt, petting him gently as the audience finally calmed.

"Thank you fine men for paying homage to this humble establishment! I very much hope our entertainment pleased you, and our wine heated your liver to satisfaction. " The blonde chuckled deeply, as the audience cheered and laughed in response. "Prithee, good lords, I have an announcement. To some it is an opportunity, to some an end, yet which depends on the weight of your pocket!" The blonde roused another laugh from the drunken crowd.

He turned his steel eyes to the boy, a softness creeping into them as the slave eyed the floor beneath him modestly. "My boy; my pride and joy, the beating heart of my business has come of age." He announced with finality, lifting the teen's head by his hair, to softly force his face into view of his admirers. "Ichigo has lived for eighteen summers, yet only eight of them under my care. The time has come with his ripening, for me to retire with my lady." The blonde smiled resolutely, as the teen's mouth went slack, his brows furrowing in adorable confusion. "I will auction my belongings come dawn, and all but Ichigo can be guaranteed."

The audience mumbled excitedly, as the poor orangette seemed to finally realize his master was selling him. Doe brown eyes looked up, betrayal deep enough to strike a dagger through the heart etched across his face. When the blonde showed no reaction, anger overcame the teen. In a disobedient fit he smacked his masters hand away, simultaneous to every source of fire in the room erupting with his fury.

Anger, confusion and betrayal quivered across his features as he rose. People began screaming as fire from the table lanterns gripped their clothing and attacked their skin like savage beasts. The tavern was emptied in little time, panicking people fleeing to the streets in search of safety. Servants rushed out with water jugs to begin dousing the raging flames before the entire building burnt to the ground.

In the midst of the commotion, only I, saved by discarding my lantern previously, and a handful of others stood still in the crowd, observing the incensed teen as his master tried ineffectively to calm him.

The flames crackled furiously as the teen rushed from the stage, his master quickly pursuing. I frowned at the thought of that unmarred skin rippled with weal's. Because the boy would undoubtedly be whipped for his behaviour, and such wounds would lower his price on the market.

Yet I was obviously, once again, in the favour of the gods. What gracious luck that this night was the one the slave master chose to announce his retirement. The trick to appeasing the gods was not to please them, but to amuse them; I had realized this long ago.

Looking around at the other stagnant men, I realized they were my competition. I was still in an arena, still battling with powerful men for victory; nothing had changed. The gods had simply changed my setting, and instead of rewarding me they had thrown me a new challenge.

I eyed them carefully, searching for weaknesses in my opponents just as I would on the battlefield. I ran my eyes over a wealthy merchant as he lounged uncaringly, sun-kissed skin littered with golden jewels and rings, short blonde hair framing a thin face and sharp honey eyes, and a transparent white toga draped over his frame.

The next was a handsome nobleman with ink black hair, sitting regally as he sipped his wine. I recognized the ivory pins in his hair, and the crimson sash around his neck as those identified with a famous noble house, known widely for their wealth and status.

Another I deemed worthy of acknowledgement was an exotic Egyptian ambassador, who grinned from ear to ear in a frightening way. He wasn't physically beautiful like the previous two men, but he covered his face and hair in extensive clay and wigs, that it was impossible to know his true face. The glint in his eyes sent a shiver up my spine, and I swore he would not get his hands on the boy.

Yet from the five of us remaining, the man I deemed most dangerous was a smirking brunette, shoulders draped in a senator's purple sash, and his mahogany eyes gleaming with intelligence. The look across his face angered me; he seemed so smug, as if he had already won.

His sharp eyes quickly cut across to me, and a cruel smile twisted his lips as he raised his goblet in good faith. I recognized him straight away, a memory of having to bow down under threat of lashings and kiss the toes of a senator, my back becoming a reluctant table for his glass. Rage twisted in my gut, I was sure the glare I returned could erode iron, yet the man remained unfazed.

What irked me was not having to prostate myself and kiss another mans toes; such a thing was a common sign of servitude for slaves. But it was the fact that the senator had me whipped despite my obedience. My back stung at the memory of his laughs, as he poured wine over my opened flesh.

I'd never be able to forget Aizen and his cruelties, but the boy could still be saved from his grasp, so long as I had my say.

* * *

A/N- Sorry about the abundance of notes, but I have some more fun facts to share, so that this chapter makes more sense to you.

-Romans had a large empire, and instead of having their own style of music, they simply enjoyed the creations of all their conquered cultures. Indian, Asian, Greek, African… etc, a lot of it was shipped in from across the ocean too.

-When Urahara says he hopes the wine '_heated your liver_' there is a twofold meaning. The liver was thought to be the source of sexual feelings, so he is also implying that the wine, and the performance heated your liver. In other words, he hopes it aroused you.

-I think it's pretty obvious, that '_the weight of your pocket_' refers to how much gold you have; wealth. And Grimm's pockets are pretty heavy at the moment.

-'_All but Ichigo can be guaranteed_' ;Slaves in Rome were usually auctioned, and their health and service guaranteed by the master, along with all the information about their person and background. If a slave wasn't guaranteed; all the information about him not known, or he wasn't in full health, then his market value dropped a lot. It's like a lot of modern business dealings, and 'no money back' stuff.

Can everyone guess who Grimm's competition are, besides Aizen? ;) Their clothing indicated their status and wealth. I.e. only free citizens can wear a toga. Slaves wore tunics, and Grimm's still wearing his tunic because he doesn't have anything else. And Ichigo's not really wearing anything apart from shackles…

Anyway, sorry for rambling! half of this chapter is authors note, i swear...

I only dance FREE!


	3. Chapter III- Fan and the Bellows

Title- Bread & Circuses.

Summary- Folks came from far and wide to see the young boy who dances with fire. I was just going along with the crowd, but once the show began I was captivated, just like the rest of them.

Disclaimer- I do not own bleach, and this is not guaranteed to be historically accurate.

A/N- Apologies for the colossal wait leading up to this chapter. I have culled most of the notes, but i would appreciate it if you'd check out a new project i've started with a friend, called '_Fair Game._' That is, if you haven't already. ;) Thank you!

* * *

The humble, pale blonde tavern-owner invited those of us remaining to a feast. He grinned and bounced around, gesturing to his prized possessions and bragging as if the auction had already begun.

The silver glint in his eyes irked me, as if the mind inside that joyous, carefree facade was already measuring and planning. I could smell his wit a mile away, and he could smell our gold.

All of us were wealthy men, and the blonde was not stupid attempting gaining our favour. But it went unsaid that we were only interested in one thing.

We sat at his personal dining table, as serving wenches brought us even finer wines than the previous. The merchant lay his gold enthroned feat upon the wood, as he grinned, joked and laughed with the slave master.

The Egyptian paid his companions no mind, instead he seemed enthralled by studying Rome's exotics; the bountiful frame's of the serving girls were all meat beneath his gaze. When he turned his examining eye to study me instead, I felt indescribably uncomfortable.

But I was not the only one feeling awkward; the wealthy noble seemed equally out of place. His ink black hair draped his shoulders as he shut his coal black eyes. I could feel conceit dripping like sweat from his pores, could practically hear him thinking us all unworthy company, wishing he weren't sharing a table with such barbarians. Yet as his eyes flickered to the senator, I could see his brain churning. It seemed even a man of his excessive wealth was wary of the brunette.

Aizen Sosuke's lips quirked in a wry smirk as he sipped his wine, feigning obliviousness to his surroundings. Sharp brown eyes scanned us all, yet he didn't see opponents like I did; he saw animals, and this irked even the stoic noble.

"I am honoured to be seated with such esteemed men as yourselves!" The tavern owner was saying, waving his goblet around wildly and wasting wine in his glee. "I never thought a day would come when I sat with such an unlikely congregation. Five of the most famous men in the entire Roman Empire! I am truly a lucky man to have such a gift bestowed!"

"Oh save us your flattery, Urahara. We are all aware that you only care for two things; gold and women!" The merchant chuckled, propping himself on an elbow to smile at the other man. "Therefore, it is lucky we care for what you do not."

I could already tell from his twinkling smile, what tactic the merchant was going for. He was a truly beautiful man; extravagant, exotic, lithe. His sunshine yellow hair cut just so, and his makeup painted to perfectly accentuate his eyes. But his political standing was nowhere near the rest of us. No matter how much he earned, or how prettily he dressed, he would always be a sea merchant; never a noble, gladiator or political ambassador. So he chose to play a game of charm, in the hope that he could strike a private deal with the slave master.

"Let us partake in introductions, for formalities sake." The noble muttered, willing us to hurry along the conversation. "I do believe our Egyptian guest might appreciate it."

"Yes… There are some here who's names I do not know. But it is no concern. I know names that matter." The painted man smiled, his creepy golden eyes boring into me. "I am Mayuri Kurotsuji. In employ of our revered Pharaoh on a search for riches beyond the world to honor him in the afterlife."

It took me a moment to decipher his foreign accent, but I bristled as I realized his intention. The pharaoh of Egypt grew old, and there had begun a worldwide search for treasures to store in his tomb, and send to the next life with him. Those who brought him acceptable gifts received his generous promotion and promises. This Mayuri character intended Ichigo to be a sacrificial offer upon the Pharaohs death. All that beauty would be sent to the afterlife with the king; never to be viewed by mortals again.

"That just won't do." Aizen commented, even his words carrying an undeniable weight and power. "We cannot have our dearest Roman treasures rotting away in an Egyptian vault with a dead man."

The Egyptian should have been insulted at the jibe to his king, but he shrugged it off. "Rome has many treasures; you can spare a few upon our kings passing, else the tentative peace might crumble." Mayuri grinned as Aizen frowned, recognizing the dangerous waters the conversation was treading. They weren't here to have a political discussion on the balance of the world.

"It's such a waste to see one of those treasures sitting free before us." Mayuri went on, and all eyes turned to me as he gestured. "Such a stupid master to throw away something worth so much money! I would have bought the Gladiator, as Rome's finest warrior, to guard my king in the afterlife had I known he was for sale."

I bristled again under their opinionated gazes, but my tongue-tied itself in knots before I could bite out a reply.

"I do concur, such a dangerous man should not be allowed to walk the streets among our women and children. I fear he will not know how to act as a free man—trained from birth in the art of savagery. " Aizen sighed, "Yet his masters decision came and went. There is nothing that can be done to chain him down again, unless he proves himself a menace."

Aizen smiled at my snarl, and I could tell he was waiting to bind me in chains again. One wrong move and I could be arrested, especially in such powerful company.

But even if I had a barb to share, my years of servitude prevented me from shooting. I couldn't have defended myself, even if I'd wanted to. Obedience had been drilled into me since the day of my birth, and even as a free man my freedoms only depended on those of my companions. There would always be someone with more freedom than me.

"Even without his gladiatorial combat skills he is a fine specimen. Profit could be hauled from his appearance alone. Such exotic hair!" Mayuri exclaimed, eyes gleaming as they ate me up.

My fist clenched on the table, a snarl curling my lips before I could say something defiant. Luckily, the noble cleared his throat and moved the conversation along.

"I am Byakuya Kuchiki, fifth head of the honorable Kuchiki house." He narrated, voice smooth like silk, yet as hard as iron. I gave him a second examination upon hearing he was the _head_ of a noble house. I'd assumed he was a member, but the head? That was a completely different situation. Worlds apart. I'd never met the head of a noble house before, and wasn't quite sure where that put him on the political scale.

"And I'm Shinji Hirako, A common merchant with a taste for fine, exotic treasures. And I assure you I have seen a lot, but none as fine as Urahara's!" he winked across the table, laying a friendly hand on the man's shoulder as he chugged his liquor.

"Aizen Sosuke; a senator in the roman republic system. It is my humble duty to serve our glorious empire as best as I can." The brunette smiled sweetly, his face serene and courtly. It almost made me sick to watch, before I realized they were all now waiting for me.

"You have a name, Mr Panther king?" The tavern owner inquired, and it suddenly occurred to me that barely anyone knew my real name, beside my old master.

"Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez," I grunted. "Ex-gladiator."

"That's a lovely name…" The tavern owner commented, caressing his stubble and giving me a look that expected more.

"When I see something I want, there is no force that will stand against me for long. " I grunted, a small smirk turning my lips as a few of my companions became uncomfortable. "And Ichigo is something I want."

I never understood why people danced around important subjects. We were grown men. We all knew why we were here. So why all this talk of treasure and fine specimens? The boy's name was Ichigo: it was meant to be used.

They seemed put-off by my comment. I'd thrown off the merry game of vagueness they'd been playing, and those used to speaking in tone's had no retort for my bluntness. Only the blonde's found it amusing.

"So, I suppose you all want Ichigo?" Urahara laughed, clicking his fingers to summon the next course.

Juggling two trays of meals on his waist and hands, Ichigo entered on jingling feet. In the dim light his tangerine hair burned brighter than ever. All eyes were glued to those striking hips as he balanced the trays against the inclines and cut of his delicate bones.

He'd obviously calmed down since his tantrum on the stage, and now only a tight scowl revealed his displeasure. Brown eyes were dark and resigned, but beneath them I could still see the fire burning fiercely.

Ichigo had to focus all his concentration on handing out the trays. It was quite a feat, given the pressure surrounding him.

The food was delicious, of course. Scrumptious and exotic, prepared to absolute perfection. Yet the view was what really impressed.

All eyes were glued hungrily to the way the boy moved. Even going about menial tasks he was beautiful.

Once everyone had tasted the meal out of politeness and put their forks down again, the conversation continued. Our appetite's were set on something else…

Ichigo knelt at his master's heel so Urahara could pet his bright hair, as the man seemed so fond of doing.

"So, had you attained my dearest Ichigo, what use would he be to you? What is your interest in him?" The slave-owner suddenly grew serious, leveling his gaze across his buyers.

Many could not immediately answer such a bunt question that pried into their private affairs too much. The Egyptian was the first to answer.

"Of course, he would make a worthy offering to my King I am also interested in studying him for personal gain." Mayuri Kurotsuji stated his business bluntly, and some grimaced at the words.

"I would give him a mantle he is truly worthy of." Shinji Hirako exclaimed. "He would be the crown of my treasures."

"I am interested in his unique… talents…" Byakuya Kuchiki muttered reluctantly.

"The boy is a treasure I would not like to see wasted. As a benefactor of Rome, It is my duty to see he is put to good, worthwhile use. The stresses of holding office and supporting this heavy nation weigh down on me at night, It would benefit our Empire as a whole, could I attain such an entertaining outlet…" Aizen explained, always playing the saint.

Of course it would be the Empire's gain if he could have some nice flesh to stick his prick in.

I almost snorted, before again, attention was on me.

It wasn't that I was unused to attention; I had been a world famous gladiator only yesterday, entertaining crowds of thousands. But I wasn't used to being expected to speak.

What was I suppose to say to that, anyway? '_Personal satisfaction?'_ Was that really all I wanted from Ichigo? What the hell was I even here for?

"He caught my eye." My blasé answer received some disbelief from the nobles, who'd gone to pains to give elaborate, flattering answers. But I was no politician, and I wasn't about to play into their silly game. If I spoke it would be on my own terms, and I would tell it like I saw it. "I don't give a fuck about treasures, or the Roman Empire." I shrugged, a grin beginning to form on my face as Ichigo lifted his head; those coffee eyes meeting mine.

I met them head on, staring him down as he glared like a savage beast. "I don't care what his talents are, or how much he's worth to you. I just like the look in his eyes. Those are not the eyes of a slave, and I would prefer not to see them loose their edge."

I was grinning at him full on now, and I could see that he understood. No body else did, they stared at me like I was insane.

You see, there are two kinds of slaves in this word, Those who are so beaten down and suppressed that they have given up, or those who's anger rises with every unjust act of their tormentors.

The latter were rare. It was difficult to stand against the tide of fate- the chain of being. God gave you your station in life; who could deny that? But Ichigo definitely leaned towards it. The youth was difficult to categorize, but that fire in his eyes… All I knew was that I wanted to be the bellows for that fire.

I wanted to feel my palms burn as I tried to grasp him.

That fire was burning again now. He was considering me, brown eyes skeptical and harsh, glimmering like golden tiger's eye.

And lord did it make me hot under the collar.

"That's… Interesting." Urahara was rubbing his stubbly chin between his fingers again, also considering me, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Ichigo. "How much gold do you have on you?" He suddenly asked, and I blinked.

Hesitantly, I pulled out the bag of gold and dumped it on the table, following quickly with the other. I slid them to him without breaking eye contact with Ichigo

Urahara counted every piece- stacking it up, smelling it. Hell, I was surprised he didn't start eating the stuff. But when he was done he leant back and sighed, content.

"What are you going to do now? " He asked me, and I told him I didn't know. I was beginning to realize I hated answering questions.

Suddenly, he broke into crazy grinning, leaning forward on the table as he swept up the gold. "Okay mister Jaegerjaquez, we have a deal" He laughed, as everyone else at the table sat wide-eyed and stunned into silence. Even Aizen seemed perturbed for a second

"Wait a second here-" Shinji chorused, ringed fingers clenching on the table as he snarled. Byakuya was frowning, Mayuri was glowering, and Aizen…

Aizen took another sip of his wine.


End file.
